Or, why I’m suddenly bad at returning phone calls, etc., again, like the bad old days.

It’s because I’m getting maybe five or ten percent of the restoring solitude I need to function, and I’m running from any interactions in a vain attempt to just keep an even keel.

The bedroom is full of nonstop interaction. The second bedroom. The bathroom. The phone, the trips, the yard.

I’ll tell you what I tell myself.

Hang on. Things will change radically and soon.

In the meantime, my apologies to each and every one of you I’ve successfully managed to neglect, no matter how very near or very far.